


I Ham What I Ham

by Bead



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Beverage warning, Crack, Fluff, M/M, Schmoop, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 05:35:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bead/pseuds/Bead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was reading a fic of Janedavitt's and came across this line:</p><p>  <i>And, really, why had he ever thought it would? He's a man;Sheppard's a man.</i></p><p>And read it as: </p><p>  <i>And, really, why had he ever thought it would? He's a <b>ham;</b>Sheppard's a ham.</i></p><p>And laughed myself sick</p><p>~~~</p><p> </p><p>  <b>It has been said that the definition of eternity is two people and a ham.</b></p><p> </p><p>  <b>~~The Joy of Cooking</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For non-American readers, when we say biscuit we don't mean a cracker or cookie, we mean savory (unsweetened) individual-serving-size scone-type bread made with flour, butter or shortening, baking powder and milk.

"Ham? I am not a ham! _You're_ a ham." 

John raised his eyebrows and silently begged to differ. 

"You're, you're one of those fancy spiral-cut honey baked things that people coo over and can't stop eating. But,” and he shook his finger, “you never can get quite to the middle of them, can't quite get close to the bone unless you hack it to bits."

"Rodney, should I be feeling unsettled by this? Or insulted? I think I'm feeling a little of both." 

"All glazed and fancy and rakish and never giving full slices." 

"Hey, hey now," John murmured, ooching close and nuzzling Rodney's ear. "You get full slices." 

"Don't you sweet glaze me." 

John had to bite his lips not to laugh out loud. “You’re a Smithfield Ham,” he whispered, mouth right against Rodney’s ear. 

“A what?” 

“A famous, _revered_ cured ham.” 

“Oh, that’s just great.” 

“No, no,” John continued to whisper, wrapping his arms tight around Rodney’s stiff and discouraged body. “ _Revered_. A prize.” 

“Wait, is this one of those really salty hams that are practically inedible?” 

John sucked on the little place right behind Rodney’s ear. “An acquired taste. Completely unlike anything else. Salty,” he added breathily, continuing suck and lick and bite Rodney’s neck, “strong.” 

“Hmmmm,” Rodney mused, arching his neck to give John more access. “Are you getting turned on talking about ham?” 

John’s hands moved on Rodney restlessly. “’M talking about _you_ , Rodney,” he murmured, his voice dark and promising. 

“Mmm, okay,” Rodney’s voice was starting to sound a little dreamy. 

“You’re…you…alone? Almost too strong, too rich, but oh. So good.” John paused to turn Rodney’s face to his and taste him, little sipping kisses that teased them both into wanting more. “And when you’re added to something? You always, _always_ make it better.” 

Rodney held John in place, hands buried in his hair. “Unbelievable.” 

“No,” John argued between kisses. “You make everything better. You do.” 

“I meant,” Rodney replied, a thread of humor running through his voice, “the most you’ve ever said to me and you’re using _ham analogies_.” 

John froze for a second. “Trying to give you a…full slice, here,” he said roughly, darted an apologetic look at Rodney, turned his face into Rodney's palm and kissed it. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, oh.” John, eyes shut tight, rested his cheek in Rodney’s hand, clearly trying to steady his breathing. Rodney melted a little; for John, this was practically a whole damn banquet.

“So, that was pretty close to the bone, there,” Rodney observed softly, rubbing his thumb across John’s cheekbone. John nodded. 

Rodney pulled him down to rest against his chest, tucking John’s face into its usual place in his neck. He stroked up and down John’s back, soothing and slow. 

“You make everything better, too,” he said, his voice a little thick. 

John opened his eyes and splayed his hand over Rodney’s heart. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Rodney kissed the top of John’s head.

Curling closer, he grinned against the warm skin of Rodney’s throat. “Hey, Rodney, you’re a ham.” 

Rodney snorted. “A _revered_ ham.” 

John wiggled upward until he could look Rodney in the eye. “A _salty_ ham,” he said happily and swooped in for a pretty salty kiss. Rodney half-groaned, half-laughed against his mouth. 

“You are _ridiculous_ ,” he started to say, but then squeaked in surprise when John snaked a hand under his boxers. 

“I am a ridiculous ham,” John agreed earnestly, looking straight into Rodney’s eyes, but he couldn’t quite hold his grin back. He leaned in close. “Your ridiculous ham.” 

Eyes shining, Rodney threw back his head and laughed. “Oh my God,” he said, between snorts, “I don’t even know a word for how ridiculous that is,” but he wrapped both arms around John, arched into his hand and kissed him and kissed him and kissed him. 

“Haaaaam,” he added lustfully. 

John curled in tight to keep his lips pressed to Rodney’s because they were both laughing, but he had to; Rodney tasted so good.


	2. So very, very sorry.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't. I can't even believe I'm writing this.

“I hate you,” Rodney said as he stomped in the door. He flopped down on John’s bed and stared at the ceiling. “Hate, hate, hate you.”

John stilled his guitar strings with his hand and said, “Hi honey, how was your day?” 

Rodney jabbed an accusing finger in John’s direction. “Hate. You.” 

“Mmm –hmm.” John resumed picking out a song. Rodney would tell him eventually. 

In fact, he thought Rodney might have drifted off, but after a long while, he said, sounding angry but also a little sad. “Did you know that Elizabeth was tarragon chicken salad? And that Teyla is Ruus wine?” 

The strings squeaked as John’s fingers fumbled. “Rodney?” 

“Every time I ate today, I thought about what foods are friends are!” 

John couldn’t help it, so he bent as far over his guitar as he could to muffle his laugh. 

“I’m serious!” 

“I know!” John squeaked, shoulders shaking. 

Finally, wiping his eyes, he turned and looked over his shoulder. “Okay, Teyla and Ruus wine; smooth, easy and makes you feel really peaceful, then all of a sudden you’re flat on your back wondering what the hell happened.” 

Rodney pointed triumphantly at him. 

“I’m not sure I get the chicken salad thing.” 

Rodney held up his hand the better to tick of his points: “dressy, bland but sometimes a little sharpness – that’s the red onion – diplomatically goes well with crackers or bread or lettuce and – here’s the lemon juice – can be unexpectedly deadly. 

“Wow.” 

“I know.”

John stared at him a bit, affectionate smirk on his face. He raised an eyebrow. Rodney snorted and stared toeing off his shoes. 

“Ronon’s obviously steak…no, Ronon’s ribs and coleslaw.” 

Rodney’s head popped up. “Huh?” 

“Hearty, seems like they take forever to cook, challenging to eat.”

“And the slaw?” 

“A little sweetness and sharpness. 'Cause, you know," John ducked his head shyly when Rodney grinned at him. 

"He does that hugging thing!" John said defensively. 

“Hmm. Okay. Do another one.” 

John thought, “Okay. Woolsey.” 

“Something fussy.” 

Nodding, John pressed on. “Like beef Wellington or something in puff pastry. Looks flaky on the outside, but secretly… sturdy and stuff.” 

“He has done surprisingly well. Zelenka” 

“A stew with hot pepper in it. One that really sets your sinuses on fire. Miko.” 

Rodney sighed. “A soufflé, sometimes. Sometimes something a lot sturdier. Carson.” 

The first Scottish thing that flashed into John head made him frown. “Not salmon.” 

“No, not salmon,” Rodney sighed. 

“Um, one of those double popsicle things?” John bit his lips and bent over the guitar again. 

Rodney threw a pillow at him. “Because he’s a clone and we had to freeze him? Oh my god,” he continued, getting up off the bed to pick the pillow up and hit John with it, “you are awful.”

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my God. This is the fault of janedavitt, who triggered this plot bunny, ladyholder, who mentioned them arguing about ham classification, wojelah, who proved something could be written and lastly, me. Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa. I am so very very sorry. And also hungry.


End file.
